A lot of students of belly dance like to be able to identify what style we want to dance right when we start taking classes, whether it be cabaret, oriental, raqs sharqi, Turkish, Egyptian, Lebanese, tribal, tribal fusion, American Tribal Style, Improvisational Tribal Style, fusion, gothic… you get the idea.  We also pigeon-hole our peers into a particular style by expecting them to dance in a certain way, wearing a particular kind of costume, and performing to a certain kind of music.  I’m sure you’ve heard someone talk about a dancer, saying, “Oh, she does tribal style” or “Oh, she’s a cabaret dancer”, and usually these sorts of talks aren’t the complimentary kind.  I’ve observed that when a dancer defies expectation and changes one of these elements, her fans and friends sometimes express a feeling of betrayal.  I’m sure you’ve also heard, “Oh, she’s ‘gone tribal’” or “She’s ‘gone cabaret’.”

Why do we box ourselves into particular styles?  Why do we limit ourselves, and we do we insist on placing these stylistic limits on others?  Why is it such a shock when a “tribal” style belly dancer dons a bedlah?  And why is it a big deal when a cabaret dancer wears a coin bra (no to mention the fact that before the 1990s, coins were hardly a tribal-only costume element)?

Are we seeking an identity in a particular style of belly dance, and if so, why?

I know why I feel pressured to dance a certain way.  When dance becomes your job, your sole source of income, you want promotors to hire you (so you can, you know, pay the rent and pay for groceries).  If you made your initial foray into the touring and festival circuit as a “dark tribal belly dancer” and now you perform a more oriental or cabaret-influenced belly dance, those seeking a dark tribal belly dancer aren’t going to hire you.  The oriental promotors might not hire you either because they know you as a fusion dancer (or, worse, they don’t know you at all).  People often get frustrated when they can’t label something or categorize it (which is so very Aristotlean), so they might hire someone else who they can put into their own personal categorizations of belly dance, i.e. “We want a gothic belly dancer for this festival, so we’ll hire ______”.   And suddenly what style you perform becomes a matter of putting food on your table… or does it?

Let’s bring it back to ballet for a moment.  Ballet dancers learn their technique.  They practice their barre work every day.  They train the basics over and over again.  When they are cast in a production, sometimes they are expected to do “character work”, such as “Arabian Coffee” or “Chinese Tea” in Tchaikovky’s Nutcracker.  Now, imagine if a ballet dancer told the company director, “Oh, I don’t want to dance in ‘Arabian Coffee’, because I do ‘Chinese Tea’ style ballet.”  WHAT?  She’d probably lose her job.

When it all comes down to it, don’t we want our peers, colleagues, and instructors to be well-rounded?  As a performer, I want to be versatile.  I want to be able to execute various styles of belly dance.  To limit myself to one style is to limit my creative and expressive freedom.  Some dancers say that they find more freedom in belly dance fusion (and, oh yes, I used to think the same), but I believe that fusion is the hardest kind of belly dance; not only must you be an accomplished belly dancer, but you must also be accomplished in the style of dance that you are fusing into it.  I also feel that the more styles of belly dance I learn, the more I can pull from to create my own personal stylizations.  I love the grace and fluidity of oriental dance, the fire of Turkish oryantal, and the strength and power of American Tribal Style.  The more I study the many varieties of belly dance, the more I have in my creative toolbox.

Those of you who have labeled yourselves, why have you done so?  Those of you that expect others to belly dance in a particular style, why are you doing so?

Just because a dancer’s style does not fit into your idea of “cabaret” or “traditional” belly dance, this does not mean that her style is “tribal” or “tribal fusion”. Sometimes a dancer is some other variety of fusion. See Anasma (NYC) or Ebony (DC) for examples.

Also, if you identify yourself as “tribal fusion”, please be able to perform oriental style.

It makes me sad when dancers box themselves into a style, especially new dancers.  It’s like a ballet dancer saying that she only wants to perform contemporary pieces but never wants to perform in The Nutcracker or Swan Lake.  Belly dance is, at its heart, a Middle Eastern art form,  and yes, I do expect those dancers who perform primarily tribal style to be able to perform cabaret and oriental styles.  You don’t need to be a master at oriental belly dance, but I do want you to be able to interpret the music of Umm Kalthoum or a really hot tabla solo.

While I’m at it, I suggest to the oriental dancers out there to try out ATS, particularly if you work in a troupe.  The ability to follow your troupe-mates body angles and lines is essential to any dancer working in a performing company, and ATS will help you improve your peripheral vision by leaps and bounds.  Personally, I’ve learned a LOT about how I present myself as a soloist by working in an American Tribal Style company.  ATS will also help you clean up your arm carriage, and it might even help you get rid of that unconscious flippy left or right hand (you know the one I’m talking about).  Also, the improvisational essence of ATS will help you think on her feet should anything go wrong in your performance, such as music or costuming mishaps.

Love,
Me

I thought that a workshop like this one would be fully attended. But it wasn’t. Only 10 people registered. Some of the lack of attendance can be attributed to the time of year; the workshop happened in the middle of September. School had just started and many people have busy schedules. But… I still wonder: why were there not more people at this workshop? Why would one pass up an opportunity to study the roots of American belly dance with the mother of it all, Jamila Salimpour, the woman who created the idea of “tribal style” belly dance, who coined the terms “Turkish drop”, “Maya”, and “Basic Egyptian”? It also makes me wonder: how many people know how important Jamila’s format is to belly dance, particularly to any dancer who identifies her or himself as “tribal” style?

As we learned each step, I related it to its child step in American Tribal Style (ATS). (Masha Archer, a student of Jamila’s, taught Carolena Nericcio, who created what we now know as the improvisational American Tribal Style belly dance.) The “Basic Egyptian” in ATS is actually Jamila Salimpour’s “Pivot-Shift-Step”. The “Pivot Bump” in ATS is directly related to Jamila’s “Counter-clockwise Pivot”. The Arabic family of steps in the Jamila Salimpour format have a direct relation to ATS’s Arabic variations. Jamila’s “Arabic 1″ and “Arabic 2″ eventually developed into ATS’ basic Arabic step. Jamila’s “Arabic 3″ became ATS’ “Arabic Hip Twist”. “Arabic 4″ became ATS’ “Turkish Shimmy”. The connections are so obvious once you immerse yourself in Jamila’s format.

Studying the Jamila Salimpour format at Suhaila’s studio with Jamila Salimpour herself is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you have the means, no matter what style of belly dance you perform or study, you absolutely must go. Charge it on your credit card if you must. Jamila Salimpour is 84, and as much as we would love for her to stay, eventually she will pass on to the next world. She is a force of nature, a pioneer, a powerful and magical woman who has experience and knowledge about belly dance that most of us only dream of having.

To whet your appetite, I give you two articles by Jamila Salimpour on her experiences as a belly dancer, the creation of her format, and the origins of the original “tribal” style belly dance company, Bal Anat.

Speech presented by Jamila Salimpour at the International Conference on Middle Eastern Dance, May 16-18, 1997.

From Many Tribes: The Origins of Bal Anat by Jamila Salimpour

Do yourself a huge favor. Read these articles. Learn about Jamila Salimpour and how she changed the face of contemporary belly dance. Know your roots. And know that tribal doesn’t start with American Tribal Style and FatChanceBellyDance; it starts in its most cohesive form with Jamila Salimpour and Bal Anat.

Modern dance/belly dance fusion by The Power Company of Columbia College and Natalie Brown, director of Delirium Tribal Belly Dance Company, with live music by Raquy and the Cavemen:

Modern dance fusion by Urban Tribal Dance Company:

Professor Donna Mejia at TribalCon, performing her impeccable blend of belly dance and… everything. (Embedding disabled, click the link!)

Brittney Laleh’s hip hop/contemporary/belly dance fusion, performed with the Suhaila Salimpour Repertoire Ensemble:

Colleena Shakti’s flawless classical Indian-belly dance fusion:

Sera Solstice performing her blend of belly dance, modern, contemporary… with a touch of martial arts.

Theatrical fusion by Anasma of New York City:

The one and only Ebony of Washington, DC, performing her urban fusion style:

Shakra’s industrial, African, bellydance, gothic fusion:

…that’s just a small list of fusion that I like. These dancers know what they’re doing, respect the cultures and subcultures from which they pull, and they create with integrity.

In the world of tribal fusion belly dance, dancers have been taking every possible dance form and trying to “fuse” it with tribal style belly dance, or at least with belly dance.  I’m not sure why, but I suspect that most of this fusion is driven by a desire to come up with the next “new cool thing.”  (Of course, I could be totally wrong!)  We, as tribal and fusion dancers, almost take it for granted that we can take any other dance form in the world, mush it into a choreography, and present it at a fusion dance festival or show.  But what if we took our fusions to the dance communities from which we are pulling?

Because, I have to say it: Many fusions I’m seeing aren’t well-researched, deeply-studied, or solid… and I wonder why some are created in the first place because they just don’t seem to fit together well.  Some fusions I’ve seen are like watching a fish trying to ride a bicycle; sure it would be a cool sight to see, but why even try?

There.  I said it.  Sue me.

What if we took a half-assed fusion of, say, Hawaiian hula and belly dance and took it to a respected hula festival?  What if we took our “interpretations” of Indian classical dance and showed them to an audience of respected Indian gurus?  What if we took our strange blend of vaudeville, cabaret, and vintage dance and performed it for an audience of true stage performers and actors?  I might be going out on a limb here, but I suspect that those communities would react in several ways: They would probably be offended, confused, and might respect our already ill-respected belly dance community even less.  They might ask, “what on Earth do they think they’re doing?” They might also laugh at us.  (And this is not to say that all fusion is bad fusion.  There are some remarkable blends of belly dance with other world and Western dance forms.)

I’m not sure what the solution or approach is to mitigating this issue.  I understand that as artists we reserve the right to experiment, play, and try new things.  I’m not calling on people to stop having fun.  I am, of course, a fusion dancer: I consider my primary fusions to be tribal belly dance, oriental belly dance, and a bit of modern club dancing.  I’m currently in an ATS basics class; dancing regularly with two amazing breakdancers; and continuing my study of oriental dance, music, and culture. And I will say this: my fusion has been a completely organic process.  I haven’t tried to force any sort of styling into my dance for the sake of being “cool”, “different”, or to gain attention from the wider belly dance community.  And I’m not saying that all fusionists blend dance styles just to get noticed, but that certainly does happen.

I’ve been saying this for a while: there are some fusions that work and others that don’t.  To put it another way, peanut butter and chocolate might not appeal to everyone, but for the most part, it’s a really good blend of flavors.  Peanut butter and anchovies, though?  I’m not sure that’s a fusion we really need to have.

We have a responsibility to truly respect the cultures from which we are pulling when we fuse.  What I feel like I’m seeing in this community is a lot of, “Oh that’s cool! Let’s blend that with belly dance!” and not much more consideration before putting that new fusion on a stage.  Maybe, just for a moment, think of how members of that community from which you are pulling will react to your fusion.  Will they ask, “What on Earth are you DOING??” or will they compliment you for your tasteful blend of something that’s near and dear to their hearts with something that’s near and dear to yours?

Ahh, yes, it’s true.  When the “big names” in the tribal fusion community, such as Zoe Jakes and Rachel Brice, start dancing to classical Arabic music, the deal is sealed.  Cabaret is back.

A few years ago, cabaret blended with tribal was called “tribaret”.  It sort of went out of fashion for a while, but in the past year or so, it has returned under the moniker of “tribal fusion”.  Tribaret was always there, but it was always quiet…  it is getting louder all the time.

Cabaret, however, is still a dirty word to many a tribal fusion and tribal style dancer.  “Oh, I could never wear those costumes or dance to that kind of music,” they say.  “I’m just not a beads and sequins kind of girl”, they say.  Well, you don’t have to be, but it seems that the “tribal fusion” community is fusing a lot more classic oriental style raqs sharqi into their performances.

Seriously.  Several years ago I was guilty of trying to expunge any hint of oriental from my dancing until I realized that it’s just not possible. I started in primarily oriental-style belly dance, and I started learning American Tribal Style and tribal-inspired styles later.  Naturally, oriental started becoming more prominent in my own dancing.  It’s always been there, but I am certainly embracing it more than I have in the past.  Why hide what is a huge part of my own training, especially if it comes to me instinctively as I dance?

Thank the GAWDS.

Why am I thankful?  Maybe younger and newer dancers who are want to learn belly dance because they idolize or look up to these performers will start seeking out Middle Eastern music.  Maybe they’ll start to want to learn classical styles of belly dance.  Maybe they’ll start to read about Umm Kalthoum, Samia Gamal, and Tahia Karioka.  Maybe they’ll actually go take from instructors and dancers who specialize in oriental.  Maybe, just maybe, this is the beginning of the end of the artificial and ridiculous separation of the two camps after more than 2 decades of animosity.

Of course, this could just be a dream of mine.

I leave you with a few performances of “tribal” style dancers performing to oriental music with pronounced oriental stylization in their movements.  We are the new face of tribaret.

And let me remind you all that without cabaret belly dance, there would be no tribal style belly dance.

Zoe Jakes performs to a classic Egyptian baladi song:

Rachel Brice performs a classic drum solo with an Arab drummer

And in a moment of egotism, me performing to Umm Kalthoum’s “Lissa Fakir” with the Casablanca Band.  The video is a little squished from top to bottom, making me look even shorter… I couldn’t figure out how to fix that.

The term “tribal” means myriad things to myriad people.  “Tribal” can be a specific term, referring to a specific ethnic tribe of peoples, such as the Lakota Sioux native Americans, or the Tuareg nomads of North Africa.  “Tribal” can also be more of a loose idea, evoking images of prehistoric man living in a time before agriculture, guns, or industry.  The word “tribal” also conjures images of “savages”, peoples living in areas and times before electricity, before factories, before monotheism; Europeans and Americans have romanticized and exploited this imagery for hundreds of years.

So, many people come to this dance, this dance which we call “tribal style belly dance”, with an idea of what “tribal” means to them… and most of the time, their idea of “tribal” doesn’t really include belly dance. In fact, I’m sure a lot of them wonder, “what does ‘tribal’ have to do with belly dance, anyway?” And I know some of them ask, “What tribe?”

So, when we say “American Tribal Style Belly Dance”, what images are we evoking in the minds of the uninitiated? And what does “American Tribal” mean to someone who isn’t American or who isn’t familiar with American history and folk culture?

The words “American Tribal” to those outside the belly dance world probably will evoke images of Native American Indians on the Great Plains of North America, hunting bison on horseback, feathers in their hair, and other stereotypical ideas of how pre-European cultures lived on this continent. Furthermore, if a dancer outside the United States searched “American Tribal” on eBay, what items are retrieved?

When in Europe, I saw several costumes that incorporated Native American dream catchers on belts and hair ornaments. My initial thought was, “OK, that’s strange”, but then when I thought a bit more, I realized, “well, if you search ‘American Tribal dance’” on eBay, that’s an item that might come up.” As I think about this incorporation of Native American elements into tribal fusion belly dance costuming, I realize that I’ve seen more than just dream catchers, but leathers that look like buck skin, headdresses that are clearly inspired by the Great Plains Indians’ warbonnets, and other American Indian-looking items.

It made me think about what we’re saying as dancers when we incorporate not only Middle Eastern and South Asian tribal elements into our costuming but also Native American costuming elements. And it also made me wonder if these European dancers even know that the dream catcher, although it is an authentic tribal item, is not usually a part of the American Tribal Style Belly Dance costume. I suspect this is mostly because it is a Native American tribal item and might, at least in the United States, offend Native Americans who might be watching our performances. And why would a European dancer care that she’s wearing a Native American folk art? She might not know it’s an American craft, and furthermore, she might not have even been to the United States at all.

After all of this pontificating, rambling, and ruminating, I think I’ve concluded, at least temporarily, this: As dancers, we need to educate ourselves about the ethnic items that we choose to wear. Our costumes are the first things that our audiences see, and if the audience includes members of the General Public, then we need to pay even more attention to how we adorn ourselves. Just because something is listed as “tribal” on eBay, that doesn’t give us fair license to sew it on to our belts. Lack of curiosity is no excuse for ignorance. And I’m not saying that we shouldn’t blend tribal elements in our costuming; it’s these ethnic items that make the tribal style costume so rich and beautiful! What I am saying is that you, dear dancers, have a responsibility to know where your costuming elements come from, what they represent, and what images they might conjure in your audiences imaginations.

Each belly dancer represents all of us. What are we saying about our community if we don’t even know the meaning of what we’re wearing?

Recently, I’ve seen a few performances that seemed to be more about the dancer showing off a series of “tricks” than actually dancing, expressing, and emoting.  You know those performances… the one where the layback/backbend into a drop is gratuitously placed in the set, or the dancer does several drops in one performance (and I’m not talking about FatChanceBellyDance, or the other master dancers).  Or the one where the dancer is ticking, locking, and popping all over the place, but lacks any sense of expression or grace.  Or the one where the dancer shimmies her way through a 10 minute set when she could be accenting her very interesting music in very beautiful ways. So, you can move your body in fascinating ways, but what about that makes you a dancer and not a contortionist, acrobat, or just another entertainer?

Now, I’m certainly not saying that a dancer shouldn’t have a few tricks up her sleeve.  I love showing off my backbends, belly flutters, and shimmies. Those moves are crowd pleasers, and I’m totally aware of that.  As dancers we also must entertain, and frankly, it’s fun to show off our tricks.  But when the performance becomes all about the tricks and less about the dance, then I begin to wonder, “who is this dancer? What does she have to say? And why isn’t she showing us what’s really inside her?”

I think the use of tricks indicates a few things about the dancer: She’s afraid to dance as herself, and she’s hiding behind her “Wow Factor”; she’s not aware that dance can be an emotional outlet as well as a physical one; she believes that the tricks will gain her more recognition, praise, and attention (which, sadly, is often true).  What really bothers me is that after seeing a performance composed mostly of tricks, there will be a host of audience members lavishing praise on that dancer, telling them how amazing they are.  Seriously? Is that what this dance, particularly in the vein of that which we call “tribal fusion”, become? A series of crowd-pleasing movements set to electronica or neo-Balkan brass? I certainly hope NOT.

I ask of you, dear readers, that the next time you find yourself out at a bellydance show, ask yourself, “is this performer really dancing, or are they relying on their tricks?”  And a few tricks are fine, and some take great skill (balancing and layering, for example), but don’t let yourself be tricked by the tricks.  Each of us has so much to say when we’re on stage, and I believe that we must start saying it, even if that means that we won’t be as “impressive” to the layman viewer.  Dance is not a series of tricks set to music. It is moving art, and moving art can also be dynamic entertainment.

Why am I writing this post?  To tell you about the performances that I loved, the ones that inspired me, and the ones that I believe signal a sea change in the world of tribal and tribal-inspired bellydance.  Here are the performances that stood out in my mind because they were authentic, didn’t follow trends, and were clearly heartfelt.  They were also well-executed with clean technique, and of course, had artistic integrity.

American Tribal Style bellydance: FatChance BellyDance.
They are the reason we’re all here, right?  Video forthcoming.

Tribal style bellydance:  Awalim Dance Company.
Awalim, headed by Ziah Ali and based in Atlanta, Georgia, is an excellent example of a fun, technical, and energetic tribal dance company.  Ziah, along with company members Teejei and Kate, presented a fantastic and entertaining set with no gimmicks, no props, and accomplished finger cymbal playing.

Tribal style bellydance: Zafira Dance Company.
This trio blends classic bellydance, tribal influences, and creative staging.  They are one of the troupes who make the “old-timey” look-and-feel work, because they believe wholeheartedly in it, and it’s clearly a style that fits everyone in the company.  Video forthcoming.

Tribal fusion: Sera and the Solstice Ensemble.
What can I say about Sera other than that she is an artist in her own right.  She has always been an innovative, heartfelt performer with clean technique and a vision, a vision of dance as art and as moving sculpture.  Sera and her ensemble, based in New York city, always present moving sets, and this year’s performance at Tribal Fest made me cry with its power, precision, creative staging, and honesty.

Tribal fusion: The Uzumé.
Based in Holland, the Uzumé presented a creative and modern dance-inspired duet.  I didn’t catch them live, but after watching the video of their performance, I’m quite sad that I missed it.

Tribal fusion: Daniela.
I’ve been watching soloist Daniela, from Florida, for over a year.  She’s always been an elegant and polished performer, but I think that her Tribal Fest performance this year signaled a maturation in her style and performance quality.  She blends classic cabaret with the poise and strength of American Tribal Style bellydance, and very importantly, she is unique.  No one else in the tribal bellydance scene dances like she does.  In addition, her technique is impeccable, and if you aren’t smiling after watching her smile during her performances, then… um… I’m not sure what to tell you.

Tribal fusion: Natalie Brown.
OK, I’m biased.  This girl is a dear friend of mine, but I have to say that even if I weren’t, her performance would still have been one of my favorites.  She has always had wonderful extension, elegance, and musicality, but she brought her dance up a notch (or two) with this performance, adding intense emotion and more advanced technique. She is one to watch.

Bellydance fusion: Shoshanna.
I’ve been a fan of this lyrical bellydancer since I started dancing back in 2000.  She danced with her signature prop, the four-yard veil, at Tribal Fest this year, and she shows us how to tame and become one with what’s often an unruly length of silk.  As you’re watching this, pay attention to her feet; they’re always so elegantly pointed!

Dance fusion: Shakra.
These fellow DC-area dancers and I joked that last year at Tribal Fest, all of us from the DC area were angry.  This year, we decided to do something different.  Shakra, Hilary and Na’la, performed the entirety of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”, and rocked it.  Video forthcoming.

Were you at Tribal Fest?  What about other recent bellydance events?  Who do you think are the up-and-coming dancers in the tribal and fusion world?  Let me know who your favorites were… and let’s avoid talk about who you didn’t like.  I do believe in constructive criticism, but it should be reserved for less public forums than this blog.